A Dark Affair
by NurseLintu
Summary: Probably just a oneshot... Drake is just so delicious. Smut ensues... Be Warned


It's just a normal night. Reasonably busy, but no more so than usual. I'm only out because I'm sick of being stuck in my no bedroom apartment all night every night. I could afford something bigger and marginally classier, but I'm saving up to buy a nice house in the suburbs with a picket fence so I can draw in a nice rich husband and start a family or something like that. It's a Wednesday night, and I really have no reason to be out and knocking back the drinks, but I failed to find a reason not to. Which to me is reason enough to go out.

I'm on my own, which I guess could be classed as sad, but it's okay with me. I moved away for just such reasons. My family isn't exactly what a family should be, and the people I'd class as friends. Well. So life in a new city, a few thousand miles away from where I grew up is exactly what the doctor ordered. Or psychiatrist, anyhow.

I'm thinking about going home. I've almost finished my drink, the bartender is busy chatting up some trashy looking busty blond, and most of the half decent looking people have filtered out, leaving just the skeezy perverted types. I'm not _that_ much of a dare devil. I could probably reach across the bar and swipe whatever drink I fancy, but I'm not feeling up to the potential drama. It must be time to go. I drain the last of my drink, and grab up my coat ready to leave. Then I freeze. I don't know why. I just feel... Odd. Out of sorts. My spine is alive with electricity. I'm not sure I could move if I wanted to. I'm warm. Too warm. I start to panic that perhaps something had been slipped in to my drink. It's definitely one of those kinds of places. I manage to heave myself out of my chair and pause, unsure whether I am going to hurl.

I quickly conclude I am not going to throw up, so I start pushing my way through the mass of heaving, sweaty bodies on the dance floor. I make it out safely, and look up to locate the door. My eyes find the door, but they are drawn away, and to a dodgy looking corner near the rest rooms. The feeling is back, and I stop dead, wishing there was something to grasp on to.

The most intense molten eyes are staring back at me. He twists on his heels, keeping his eyes on me, and I can literally _hear_ the voice in my head screaming at me to run far, far away.

The man has thick, dark hair, that is cut close and tidy, and his face is _perfect_. He's broad and tall, and powerful looking in all the right ways. I am trying to run, really, and I'm half glad when a swarm of what I can only imagine are hookers, come flooding out of the rest room and obscure my view of the dangerous looking man. I begin to turn, but stop abruptly as I feel a cold, hard weight pressing up against me. A hand brushes down my arm, and icy breath ghosts across the skin of my neck. That feeling is back, and I sag loosely on to the stranger. Fingers skim across my stomach and pull me flush against the body behind me possessively. I feel a rumble in his chest, somewhere between a growl and a purr, and I'm not entirely sure if he speaks, or if I imagine it.

" _Come_."

I don't hesitate. The voice in my head is screaming abuse at me, but her voice is gradually dulling down, becoming muffled and sounding farther away by the second. Everything inside me is calming down. For the first time in twenty years, I feel peaceful. Content.

I know I'm walking, and I can feel his hand in mine, but I'm in a trance. I have no idea where we are, where we're going. I think we walk for a long time; it could be hours. Neither of us speak. I know he's watching me as we walk. He moves with absolute grace and silence. I can't even feel my feet touching the ground.

We wind up somewhere; I've no idea where, or when, but it's the first time I've been aware of another person in a long while.

We're in a crummy alley, and he has stopped. I stand, I should probably be wary, but I'm too mellow to feel much in the way of emotion. He has slipped behind me, and he's nuzzling at my neck, breathing in deeply, and out slowly; long, stuttering breaths. I'm sure I hear a moan-purr as he drags me back a few steps to the wall. His hands are closed around my front again, and he maneuvers himself around in front of me, using his body to hold me against the wall again. I relax against the cold brick and close my eyes as his lips gravitate back to my neck again, pressing cold, open mouthed kisses to the soft, sensitive skin. I breathe out, and it's the closest I can get to making any noise. His hands run down my arms again, and he brings them up, holds them out to the sides, making a crucifix of the wall behind me. He growls, jams his knee between my thighs and dips his head back down to my neck before he freezes.

An attractive brunette man - I wouldn't put him much past 25 - is standing in the middle of the alley, his legs set apart, shoulders hunched in an aggressive stance. He's insanely pretty. Nothing short of hauntingly perfect. I know I'm staring at him, and he's looking back at me with the same frightening intensity as the man I'm with. The man whose name I still don't know.

" _Drake_."

I close my eyes at the sound of that smooth, velvety voice. I feel Drake tense in front of me, and he squares up the interloper, and the air around us intensifies. It's almost crackling. I hear that bizarre rumble again - or maybe I feel it - and the smaller male cowers, bowing his head and backing off, never turning his back on us. It's an Alpha performance.

Drake turns to me, and his eyes are hard, and fiery. He might be angry. It's a very primal display; there's something almost feline in his predatory behavior.

The voice in my head has shut up, but I've enough common sense to know that I'm in deep with something I really don't understand.

I realize belatedly that we have arrived in some manner of a bedroom; although it's scarcely a King's abode. There is a bed, and there's a lamp. That's as far as the decor goes. Not so much as a window to let in some morning light.

The alarm bells that should be ringing are dulled down to a comforting melody in my head. I watch as Drake slides the bolt across to lock the door behind us.

Not a word has passed between us - I don't think - since we met, but his body language alone speaks volumes. I know he wants me to be afraid. I think he wants to play with me. I have just enough free will left in me to stand my ground, staring back at Drake, challenging him as much as I dare and as much as I have the strength to do. I'm sticking with the drugged idea as my eyes absently drop to take in the devastating beauty of the man before me. He's large built, broad shoulders, sharp, angular features and quite literally the most breath takingly attractive person I have seen in my life. He stalks up to me, the barely buttoned white shirt parting to reveal more smooth, porcelain skin, and his hand closes round my throat, tight enough to frighten me, but not enough to cause any damage.

His eyes are mostly black, circled with fiery orange, and he smirks down at me, revealing perfect teeth. The calm surges through me again as his arms circle me and I feel the him unzip the back of my dress. The silky fabric slacks and with a little encouragement from Drake's hands, slips down my body and pools at my feet. Cold fingers ghost across my skin all over my body, and I raise my own hands from beside me as Drake begins willing me back towards the bed, and I take a hold of his ass, enjoying the feel of the leather pants beneath my hands.

There is another shudder and rumble through Drake's body as he chuckles at my enthusiasm. My fingers fumble with the two fastened buttons on his shirt, and I make quick work of removing it. His skin is hard and smooth as marble, and at least as cold as ice.

I find myself in a state of complete undress, and totally unaware of how it happened. Less than none of me cares as Drake lays me down on the bed and stares down hungrily at me. His eyes are almost shining with an unnatural light, and I actually feel myself begin to panic. Drake places his hand on my chest, above my thundering heart, and climbs atop me, one leg either side of my hips. He bares his teeth - his _fangs_ \- at me, and grins as I scramble beneath him, swiping for the lamp to use as a weapon, and he grabs my arm, pulls it back to my side.

The power in his grip is bordering on bone crushing. I get the feeling it wouldn't take him any effort to snap my arm in his hand.

"You're not going anywhere." Drake's true voice is the goddam smoothest, sexiest thing I have ever heard. He speaks in to my ear, nibbling gently on the lobe, sending shivers through my body.

Drake hones in on my neck again, and actually runs his tongue over my jugular. It's a bizarre sensation; the wetness of a tongue, but none of the heat. As his body covers mine, I inhale his rich, spicy scent. It's intoxicating, and I feel the strange hot electric feeling in my spine again. I feel high.

Amidst his ministrations to my neck and, subsequently, the rest of my body, I'm sure I hear him mutter "Mine," several times. I'm too lost in the ecstasy to be sure.

At some point, his pants have disappeared - I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or not - and I feel him begin to enter me. His hands are wrapped around my wrists, the pressure is unbearable, and I manage a slight whimper of pain. He raises one of my arms, and I cry out as I feel something pierce the delicate skin. I have no memory of him having a blade, but it feels like a blade that has cut my skin, and I can see fresh blood rushing down my arm; he's managed to pierce quite a major blood vessel by the looks of it. The pain diminishes quickly, and I hear Drake growl again as he watches the path of blood run up my arm and begin to pool just above my breast. He dives down and I feel his cold tongue flick out and lap up the blood. I've heard of blood kinks, but I've also heard of cross infection. I wince slightly as Drake returns his attention to the cut on my wrist and he closes his lips around it. I can feel him sucking at the wound, like a starved lamb, and I wait for a pain that doesn't come.

I begin to feel a little more woozy, and Drake turns back to me, his eyes like molten lava again, and his teeth bared in a feral show. He pushes fully in to me and drops my arm back on to the bed next to me. I lay limp on the bed beneath him as he puts his full weight on to me and begins moving.

Without selling myself as a whore, I've a fair bit of experience in the bedroom with men (might I add with two long term boyfriends - and one wild weekend, but that's beside the point) but this is something new all together. My entire body is on fire, every inch of skin tingling and throbbing with the most intense desire. I feel on the edge of climax already, and the cry that falls from between my lips is beyond my control. My left arm is burning, and I can feel blood still pumping out from it, but I manage to fist my hand in the sheets beneath me, desperate to hold on to something, anything to attempt to regain control.

Drake is driving in to me, faster, deeper every time. I can feel a deep rumble coming from him as he picks up his pace. His eyes are closed, and one of his hands is on my hip, holding me hard and still as he forces himself on me, the other hand is pressed against the wall above our heads.

A shower of plaster begins to sprinkle itself on my forehead as Drake's fingers dig in to the wall. I hear another cry escape me, and Drake's eyes snap open and lock with mine. His hand flies to my chin, bringing a handful of wall with it, and he pushes my head to the side, his movements inside me becoming more insistent, deeper, steadier. He growls in my ear a moment before I feel an intense sharp pain in my neck. I hiss in response, and draw my legs up, a feeble attempt to push him away from me, but he sets a hand on my thigh and I relax, feeling more light headed by the second. I feel my own climax finally begin to push over the edge it's been teetering on since Drake sheathed himself inside me, and I am aware of feeling him shudder on top of me and the pain in my neck subsiding as he tenderly kisses it.

I come to some time later; it could be hours, minutes, or days. I don't know. I feel like shit.

Drake is standing at the bottom of the bed, watching me. His eyes are warm amber, glowing like embers. His skin has taken on a warmer, less deathly pale tone. He is still topless, his perfect, toned body smooth and delectable, but he has his leather pants on again. I'm not complaining at that sight.

My instincts tell me to get up and make some sort of attempt at running off, but something tells me I won't get far.

Drake glides round the side of the bed and bends down to brush his fingers over my cheek and down my neck. His eyes are wild as they follow the path of his fingers, and the look in them frightens me. Yet I relax and turn my head in to his touch, longing for more contact. Whatever black magic he's dealing, it's working.

I feel weak, and hungry. I struggle up on to my elbows and, as if reading my mind, Drake holds a glass of water to my lips and helps me drink. The water is ice cold and soothing.

I flop back against the pillows, the tiny movement having exhausted me, and I close my eyes.

I feel a cold hand run down my side, and I suddenly feel embarrassed and exposed in my nudity. His hand runs over my hip, then I feel another sharp burning pain in my breast, but moments later it eases, and somehow it dawns on me that he's feeding on me. I open my eyes as Drake raises his head and looks back at me, my blood running down his chin, and for the first time since we met, he presses his cold lips to mine and dips his tongue inside my mouth, the sweet, coppery flavor assaulting my taste buds. I nip at his tongue and lips hungrily as he kisses me, and I feel his lips pull back in a smile. My tongue runs across his top teeth, and I groan in some mix of pain and arousal as I feel sharp canines cut in to my tongue.

Drake responds in kind, suddenly on top of me and holding me down, somehow unclothed again, and before I can react, he's inside me again, and I am barely conscious with pleasure as he bites down on my lip, drawing more blood, drinking down what he can before offering up more to me. I feel mildly sick at the thought, but my survival instinct has kicked in and taken over, and I am nipping at his lips, his jaw, his neck, half with hunger, half with passion. Drake seems unfazed by my seemingly bizarre behavior, grabbing a hold of the top of the bed and shattering the head board with inhuman strength, his eyes more than definitely glowing down at me, feral and possessive, and I feel myself surrender to him, turning my head myself this time, offering up the soft flesh of my neck again, and Drake doesn't hesistate to sink his teeth in again, mere millimeters from the original bite marks.

I feel my head hit against the wall, and I throw my arms up and around Drake's large body, digging my fingers in to the solid muscle of his back with my last ounce of strength before I come again, and fall in to another bliss induced sleep.

I think it is day time when I next wake; with no windows to let in moonlight or sun, I can only go by my body clock, and it feels like late afternoon. Whether it's the next day or a week later, I don't know.

I ache all over, and there is a dull burn in my neck. The light from the lamp casts long shadows across the floor, and the room on the other side of the bed is practically in darkness.

My legs are cramped and achy, and it takes a good few minutes of staggering around for my muscles to loosen up. My head is thumping. I hold on to the wall to steady myself as a super delayed I-stood-up-too-quickly headrush hits me. I drop my head against the wall and swear under my breath. My stomach is burning with hunger.

"You're awake." Drake's voice is in my ear, then his lips are on my neck again.

"I'm hungry."

"Soon, my love." He pulls me back against him and pins me between himself and the wall, and I feel the now familiar sensation of my neck being bitten in to, once again.

I sob as I feel my energy drain away, and I slump, my head rolling back on to Drake's shoulder. His hands grip tighter around my waist, and I am distantly aware of him carrying me back to the bed.

I'm not quite awake. I know my eyes are open; I can see Drake, perched on the bed next to me, watching. His eyes are almost red now, his skin feverishly hot to the touch. His hand is caressing my face. He leans down to kiss me, and I have no fight left in me. I can feel blood passing from his mouth to mine, and I begin to choke on it.

Drake sits me up, and he's looking in to my eyes, again, I hear his voice, but his lips don't move. It's as if I can read his thoughts. Had I been any less half dead I would probably have been a little freaked out. My head lolls forward as consciousness starts to slip away again.

"Come," I think it's his real voice this time. He's holding me to his pectoral, cradling my head. I don't understand what he's doing, but my nose begins to tingle at a rich, foreign scent, and my mouth waters. A fraction of a second before my eyes close, I spot a deep wound on Drake's perfect skin and without so much as a though, I dive to it, latching on with lips and teeth as I can. "That's it." Drake's fingers rake through my hair and pull at it, and I hear him hiss, but whether it's from pain and pleasure, I don't know.

The taste of his blood is exquisite; sweet and tangy and spicy and rich, all in one incredible cocktail. I groan at the hot, velvety texture as it fills my mouth and courses down my throat. My entire body is one again on fire, every cell and nerve in my body positively humming and vibrating with pleasure. I find the strength to bring a hand on to Drake's sculpted chest, and I push him back, getting up on to my knees to get an easier angle. He doesn't resist. I hear him groan again. He mutters something I don't recognize; perhaps in another tongue.

I struggle against him as he pushes me away, his chest heaving, his eyes now fully dilated and black. I worry for a moment that he is going to attack me, but his eyes drop to my chin, where I can feel a trickle of Drake's blood rapidly cooling. He lunges for it, pushing me back with such force that my head hits the wall behind us, and somehow the bed shifts away from it. His tongue dips greedily in to my mouth, and he sucks on my tongue, as if trying to get back the blood he had given me. He grinds his pelvis hard in to me, hands pressing down my shoulders, and he draws back searching my face for something. He seems to find what he's looking for, and for the first time, I am graced with the radiant beauty of Drake's smile.

With a seemingly insatiable appetite, Drake has me pinned to the wall a few hours later, one hand fisted in my hair, wrenching my head back, the other holding my hips in position, and those fangs once again embedded in my neck. I cry out as I feel him spasm and come inside me, and after a few more frantic thrusts, he shoves me to the wall and presses himself flush against me, his skin again burning hot. He's whispering in some foreign language, peppering kisses over the undamaged side of my neck, and lapping up the spilt blood on the other side.

"I have waited so long." He whispers, then he is gone, completely out of my sensory field, before I know what is happening. I have no idea where he has gone, and whether he will come back. Only time will tell.


End file.
